The Artifice of Night
by Lady Lithe
Summary: Harry was devoted to becoming a soldier to protect—until he regains his memory of the murderer of his parents. On the run, he finds the haven Hogwarts, where he meets certain…distractions. But no one, not even Harry, can escape the Army unscathed... AU
1. Chapter 1: Prelude

The Artifice of Night

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but this universe perhaps!

Summary: Harry was devoted to becoming a soldier to protect the empire—until he regains his memory of Lord Voldemort murdering his parents. On the run, he finds the haven known as Hogwarts, where he finds certain...distractions. But no one, not even Harry, can escape the Army unscathed…

A slave sold into the Army as a child, Harry has only known one thing: fighting. Although he wants to protect those dear to him, can he still fight for the murderer of his parents? But no one, not even Harry, can escape the Army unscathed.

Naru-chan: This story is definitely AU! Except...there's a ton of canon too, if that makes sense. You'll see! Also, please note the ships that I ship. They're, for the most part, canon. And while this might confuse you right now, you will see. Anyway, sit back, and enjoy the show!

* * *

Chapter One: Prelude 

_Where are we going?_

It was the dream, Harry realized, in which he was a small child wearing tattered green robes. He stared up. There was a gentle hand holding his small, chubby one. It belonged to a woman… He could hear in the distance the graceful sound of church bells ringing. He turned his head to see the towering castle behind him. His emerald green eyes traced over the majestic stones and pure gold arches. He wasn't wearing glasses, oddly enough, but he could see that it was carefully decorated with beautifully sculpted designs. Somehow he knew it well, but didn't know it at all.

_Harry, today you are going to meet two important people._

He turned back to the woman. He didn't know her…but she seemed so familiar, and he somehow knew she wasn't a threat to him. She had such a nice voice.

_Who?_

For some reason, he had slowly turned his head and stared forward. He could make out the outline of two people, a woman and a man, standing beside one another, but their outlines were all he could see – it was almost as if a white fog wrapped itself around them. It was strange. While he had never met the person holding his hand, or the woman and man in front of him, he felt so nostalgic…

_The two most important people of your life…_

* * *

"We, the elite students of the esteemed Military Academy Durmstrang, have been chosen to be potential soldiers to protect the Fort of Salazar," a distinctive voice loudly drifted over the thousands of listeners seated before the high platform. 

The voice, ringing with importance and nobility, reverberated against the enormous auditorium. None of the spectators dared to ever whisper, and they hung to every sweet word that came from the mouth of the orator. All of them were boys or young men, and among them were several adults—mentors most of them. Their backs were as straight as pins, and their eyes focused on the speaker with rapt attention almost unusual for males of such age.

"Thus, let all of us become worthy fighters that will not blemish the name of the empire!"

With that last statement, the hall burst deafening applause. Draco Malfoy stepped away from the tall, gold-plated podium and smiled out into the crowd, a proud smirk on his handsome pale face. His silver blond hair was combed back so that it fell perfectly over his two ice-blue irises.

He donned the same spotless uniform as the rest of the students—a pair of ink black trousers and a matching tight and crisp coat. It buckled at the right side of his chest with two lines of silver buttons that went up all the way to his neck. To the sides over his shoulders were gleaming silver decorations along with the Academy's shimmering symbol: a coiling snake. He lifted his arm and swiftly adjusted his sleeve, which also was adorned with buckles and embroidery that matched the identical silver embroidery that trailed up where his coat buckled. He wore raven boots that gleamed under the light around him. Indeed, Draco Malfoy did wear the same uniform as his other select peers—except for the single unique crest that graced his left arm: his family's crest.

The students began to file out of the huge auditorium, chattering relentlessly. It was an enormous contrast with their behavior while listening to Draco. Further down the hall, a group of boys stopped and waited as they spoke.

"Just as you'd expect from Draco!" a bulky brown-haired boy laughed enthusiastically. He had a broad face, broad shoulders, and a broad waist. He was a mass of muscle, and he intimidated anyone he could lay his hands on. Still, at the very mention of Draco, his face would melt into an expression of pure awe and adoration. "Using all those words! Right, Crabbe?"

"Right, Goyle! He is, after all, the most popular student in our class," a taller, but equally bulky boy pointed out with admiration. He looked less immediately intimidating than his friend, but when his face was contorted with rage, he was no laughing matter. His focus was brute strength rather than cunning wit.

"What else do you expect from the son of Commander Malfoy?" a tall, thin ebony-skinned peer smirked coolly. He eyed the two large boys with a slight distain. He, Blaise Zabini, utilized his brains rather than his muscles. Indeed, he was a very slim boy. The skin wrapped tightly around his cheekbones, giving off an air of high-class elegance and perfection.

"He lives up to his name," a shorter, skinny boy with a slick mob of dark brown hair said calmly. He spoke tersely, choosing his words carefully.

Theodore Nott had long ago learned from his father that words could and would be used as weapons, so he used them sparingly whenever he must. His hooded eyes flickered over the crowd of students. He would much rather disappear into the shadows than be with these three. Not that he minded Blaise too much. It was just the loudness and stupidity of the other two that made his pale white skin crawl. Still, he would wait, for he knew that he would soon be seeing the one person that he talked the most to.

"Of course, Theodore," a voice said. Theodore turned around as a sly smile grew on his face.

"Ah—Draco!" the tall boy welcomed the newcomer. "Great speech."

"Thank you Blaise," Draco smiled icily. Then his ice-blue eyes caught sight of a student and they narrowed with a glint of malice.

In the mass of students now leisurely chatting in the hallway, one figure marched stridently through them. The clicking of his shoes was the only sound that he made.

"My, my, it's our lucky day," Draco drawled mockingly. "Look who has graced us with his presence. It's Headmaster Slughorn's favorite student. Morning, Harry!"

The raven-haired boy ignored the shout and continued on his way. His black boots drummed against the marble floor. He adjusted the white file in his arm before pushing the thin black pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Hmm," smirked Draco as his friends glowered after the boy. "He's looking as cheerful as ever."

"Doesn't even say hello," growled Gregory Goyle, the hulking boy. His tanned face twisted with anger. Vincent Crabbe, the other massive boy grunted in agreement. "His arrogance just makes me want to…"

"Now, now, Goyle," Draco mollified his friend by simply raising a pale hand. His eyes remained on the retreating boy. "We must know how to treat the…'special' people, _if_ you know what I mean."

_Click, click, click._

"Ah, so _that's _the exceptional 'Special Student,'" one of them whispered as he passed.

_Click, click, click._

"Are you sure that such a shrimp is capable of keeping up?" another voice hissed.

_Click, click, click._

"You know what _I _heard?" yet another voice sneered snobbishly. "I heard that he used to be a slave! See his uniform? He doesn't have a family crest!"

_Click, click, click._

"Ha ha ha! No way! Shhh! He'll hear you! You better watch out. Maybe he'll get Slughorn to expel you!"

_Bastards, _Harry thought, refraining from letting his mouth curl up into a furious sneer. They knew all too well that he could hear every single word. He knew he shouldn't let them get under his skin, after dealing with their mockery for so long, but he found it harder and harder.

"Hey, hey, famous Master Harry, wait up!" a hand touched Harry's shoulder.

"Don't _even,_ Ron!" Harry's arm moved so fast that Ron Weasley barely dodged his punch. The redhead's face lit up instantly as Harry's emerald green irises glared at him.

"Wow!" laughed Ron, running a coarse hand through his ginger locks as his freckled face broke out into a wide grin.

He was lanky, fully equipped with long and thin arms and long and thin legs. He could be considered handsome, but it wasn't quite the right term to use to describe his appearance. He most certainly had enough height. What kept him away from this word, however, was the boyish charm that exuded from him. There was innocence in his bright blue irises and unevenness in the atmosphere around him, as if he were a mixture between silk and cotton. Harry could never quiet put his finger on it.

"You knew it was me?"

"How can I not?" Harry sighed exasperatedly while adjusting his collar. "You've been my best friend for three years and I—ack! Oh, sheesh!"

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, his eyes blinking at his friend.

"Look, how many times do I have to tell you?" Harry hissed, his green eyes glaring at the other boys in the corridor. "Stop acting so…friendly toward me. It'll only get all these other blokes talking about you, just like they do me. Next thing you know, they'll be spreading rumors."

"So?" Ron shrugged, throwing an arm around Harry's neck and dragging him along. He was thin, but he wasn't weak. "It already pisses me off that they badmouth you. I could care less if they do it to me. C'mon, let's go to class before we're late. Today Professor Snape—"

"Erg," Harry groaned, slipping out of Ron's tight hold.

"My sentiments exactly," Ron agreed. "Anyway, today he's going to probably give us a few words of encouragement before we enter the exam."

"Oh…so the usual, eh?" Harry grinned.

"You bet. 'I beg of you…just forget your wand,'" Ron mimicked in a low, spiteful voice. His entire face fell as he gave Harry a look of evil. "'And if you go…'"

"'Don't come back,'" Harry copied Ron's tone and demeanor. The two of them burst out laughing as they entered their classroom.

"If you two goons would _kindly _take your seats," a deep voice drawled. Professor Snape loomed before them. Harry wondered if he would ever meet a more depressing and evil person.

Snape had long, shoulder length black hair that was greasy and looked as if it had never been washed. Harry always had this huge urge to pull out his wand and do it for Snape, but he highly doubted that Snape would appreciate the sentiment. His face was an appalling pale—as white as chalk Harry liked to think—and it clashed horribly with the two empty black holes that were his eyes. He had a long, pug nose that seemed to stretch on and on and descended like a hawk's beak over his thin lips. Not only that, but he donned large and flowing black robes. He honestly looked like a hole of black in the middle of the white room.

Snape had never liked Harry. Harry thought it was probably because on the first day of class, he had accidentally set his teacher's robes on fire. While it had not been his intention, he certainly didn't regret it too much. Still, Snape was the Dark Arts teacher so Harry had no other choice but to learn from him. After all, it was Harry's goal to become one of the soldiers that protected the empire.

"I'm sorry if you had expected…_special _treatment from me," Snape said emotionlessly, pausing to let the other students to laugh, "but I'm afraid you two are late. No favoritism… Not even from the Headmaster can change that fact."

Harry bit back a retort, knowing that Snape was deliberately trying to draw something out of him. He wouldn't give him that pleasure. Instead he nodded curtly and pulled Ron, a bit violently because the redhead was flushed to his ears, toward their seats. Harry shot him a look. Ron bit his lower lip brutally for a second, before he released the poor strip of flesh from his hold and sighed. His resentment had drained away.

"Don't worry," Harry quietly reassured him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, well," Ron said gruffly, dragging his chair noisily across the floor, much to the annoyance of Snape and the others. "I hate it when he says crap like that. The bloody—"

He was cut off, however, when the door swung open to reveal Draco, with his pointed nose leading the way. He, along with Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott, entered the room. They didn't attempt to move quickly or softly. They continued their conversation and their boots clanged against the floor, but Snape did not even glance up.

A feral growl arose in Ron's throat as his eyes threw daggers at the incoming group. "And he speaks so haughtily about special treatment."

Snape had never made it a secret about his favoring the blonde boy. Since the first day, he had seemed to decide that Draco possessed something that the others didn't and it was something that needed a bit of help before it flourished. Harry supposed Snape's deep connection with Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, probably had something to do with that prejudice.

"Now, as you all know, tomorrow is your final exam," Snape drawled. Harry stifled his need to yawn, and furiously blinked away the tears that welled up at his eyes. Snape was never a very good public speaker. "It has been brought to my attention that certain very esteemed people will be observing."

"Is it true that they're here to recruit you, Draco?" Goyle asked eagerly.

"Oh, well," Draco laughed. Harry could have sworn that his nose grew several inches. "My father has mentioned something here or there, but I wouldn't go as far as to say _that_."

"Attention," Snape said, but a glimmer of a smile as on his lips. "That being said, I wish some of you," he took this moment to look at Draco, who was positively beaming, "the best of luck. However," he said sharply, his narrow eyes sliding over to the corner where Harry and Ron sat, "I beg of you…don't bother going because you are most certainly not prepared nor ever will be. And if you do go…don't come back."

The class began to snicker as Snape had the same trace of a smile on his lips, but it was a smile touched with wicked glee rather than of affection. Harry took this time to examine the tips of his bangs. He was trying to find any split ends, but so far had been unsuccessful.

When they finally filed out of the room, Ron stretched his long arms above his head with a grunt. Harry smiled at him. The two of them stopped in front of a huge window, where the sun flooded them with light and warmth.

"Glad that was over!" Ron sighed. "At least now I'll never have to see his slimy face again."

"You shouldn't let him bother you anymore," Harry said, his eyes trailing over the black designs on the sides of the walls. "We just have to worry about tomorrow and then…"

"And then I'll be able to finally be a soldier and fight for the empire!" Ron laughed. His face crinkled with happiness. "I'll be able to protect my family." There was a moment of peaceful silence before, his brown eyes gazing far beyond the blue sky, Ron murmured absently under his breath, "I'll be able to protect everyone…"

Harry smiled wistfully at the redhead. He had never actually met Ron's family, but he felt like he had from all that he had heard about them from Ron. If anything, Ron was an adamant family man. He had grown up in a loud, bustling family brought up by two loving parents. He was also the youngest son of six.

There was Bill, the amazing curse breaker, who was the oldest and the boldest. He had a yearning for a bit of adventure and a bit of glamour, which probably explained his long hair, fang earring, and taste in women. There was Charlie, the brave dragon tamer, who faced everything with a grin on his face and a gleam in his eye. Then perfect Percy, who Ron described as practically Obsessive Compulsive when it came to neatness. He worked behind the desk for the army where he could file and organize and feel important by making connections with all the "right people" as much as he liked. Following him were Fred and George, the twin troublemakers (or devils, as Ron called them), who defied everyone's wishes and expectations and built a quaint joke shop, nearly giving their mum a heart attack in the process. And then there was Ron, who had forged his path on his own despite all the pressure and all that he had to live up to. Harry felt that perhaps Ron was the noblest of all. The path he had chosen was not as exciting as Bill's job, as thrilling as Charlie's, as rewarding as Percy's, or as downright fun as Fred or George's. He devoted everything he had to his training so that he could proudly protect the ones he loved.

Harry didn't like to think about it, but Ron's motivation was perhaps created the day his younger and only sister was killed.

Ron didn't like to talk about it, and Harry never pried. However, one night two years ago, Ron had received news that his brother Charlie had been severely hurt while taming a particularly wild dragon. He was not, however, permitted to leave the school to wait with his family at the hospital. No one was ever allowed to leave the academy unless it was a designated day. Not even if a family member died.

That night, Harry bought some Firewhiskey so that the two of them could get drunk. In a way it helped, for when Ron was drunk he didn't have to think. Too much, anyway. And while Harry knew he would have a terrible hangover the next morning, he didn't care. Ron needed him and that was all that mattered.

The two of them had been terribly drunk and laughing horrendously over a lame joke that had seemed so much funnier than usual, when Ron suddenly went quiet. He had glared unsteadily at the bottle before taking a large swig.

_"It was my fault you know," _he had slurred. Harry had not known what Ron was talking about. _"I was s-supposed ta look after 'er… But I got angry ov'r sumthin' stupid 'n' left 'er alllll alone." _He let out a watery laugh. _"Sumthin' soo stupid I don' ev'n 'member what it was! I don' 'memb'r the reason I lef' my sist'r 'n the woods! Didn't care when she cried! Those huge sparkly tears fr'm 'er purty brown eyes… S-Served 'er r-right, I'd t-thought! Her b-big broth'r W-Wony. She c-couldn't ev'n say my n-name yet!" _Ron had covered his flushed face and pressed it against his knee. _"I l-let 'er die. I k-killed her!" _

_"Ron!" _Harry had grabbed Ron's shoulders and had shaken him. _"It's not your fault! You weren't the one who did it." _

Ron hadn't been the one who had preformed the Killing Curse.

"_I m-might as well have," _Ron had sobbed, his hands grabbing Harry's shirt and balling the cloth under his shaking fists. Hot tears burned at his bloodshot eyes. _"I c-couldn't save 'er! Oh God…I don't want Charlie to die, Harry. I don't want any more of my family to die!"_

Ron had fallen into a fitful sleep that night, but Harry had not. He had sat up, watching the stars for a very, very long time.

He now blinked away the past and watched his friend smile at the window.

"You know, I heard that the test is actually very dangerous," he said suddenly. "People have died, apparently."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment before he bowled over, clutching his stomach. "Ahh! Stomach ache!"

"Yeah, yeah, Ron," Harry laughed.

"Well, as long as we're not fighting against spiders," Ron said, shivering at the very thought of it. He had a rather severe case of arachnophobia. Harry hid a snicker behind his hand. He remembered two years ago when they had to travel into The Forbidden Forest and faced off the gigantic spiders inside along with other dangerous beasts. "But hey, if we survive tomorrow, then we'll be able to celebrate your seventeenth birthday!"

"You don't need to do that," Harry said, a funny look on his face. "How many times do I have to tell you? My birthday's not important. In fact, I'm not even sure what day it is…"

"Don't be silly," Ron scoffed. "Your birthday is a very important day! It's the day you were born. Of course we should celebrate…"

Harry smiled a bit sadly at his best and only friend. Never before had he rejoiced the day of his birth, which he wasn't entirely sure he knew, until he met Ron. When he first met the redhead, he had no friends and had no intention of making Ron one, but Ron had been unyielding, and finally Harry's defensive walls crashed down.

"You know what else I heard?" Harry asked, his voice full of mischief. Ron turned to him curiously. "I heard that the Military Academy Beauxbaton will be supervising our examination…"

"So… You don't mean…" Ron stuttered, his face instantly flooding with color.

"Yup," Harry chuckled, entwining his arms behind his head. "Her-mi-o-ne."

He watched in amusement as his best friend glowed even brighter, if possible.

The first time he met her was when a troll had been accidentally released inside the Academy the first year of his arrival. On holidays, the girls would come to the feast and mingle with the boys. However, Harry had been in a particularly foul mood that Halloween night. Someone—Draco Malfoy—had discovered that he, Harry, was indeed a slave, a class lower than low. Surely now, he had thought, Ron Weasley, the adamant redhead would no longer wish to try to be his friend. As much as he hated to say it, with all the pushing away he had done, he found that thought extremely depressing. He didn't mind what the other blokes thought or said about him, but Ron had been the first friend he had ever made—sort of made, anyway. And now Ron was gone.

So tortured by these thoughts, Harry hadn't wanted to face Ron at the feast. Instead, he spent his time wandering the halls. He hadn't heard about the troll and so had not known that his safety was in jeopardy. When he heard a sudden shriek, he had instinctively run toward the sound. It had sounded like a girl's voice! He halted right in front of the second floor's girl's lavatory. Certainly…he couldn't…he couldn't enter _here_. But the second scream of terror made him forget all about this embarrassment, and he reached for the door handle to shove open the door, when a cry stopped him.

Ron, his face flushed from running, and his breath short, had stared at him with wide-open eyes. "_What…what are you doing?"_

Harry had felt color flood his face and gaped right back at Ron. "_What are _you _doing here?"_

"_I've been looking all over for you!"_

"_You shouldn't have…"_

"_Look, I don't give a damn about your past, Harry! You're my friend. Nothing can change that! Get it through you bloody thick head! I'm here to stay!_"

"_Ron…"_ Harry had choked.

Another bloodcurdling cry came from within the girl's loo once more. This time, Harry pushed open the door. His eyes widened. A huge, ugly green troll, its lumpy club in its hand, slowly turned around to stare at him stupidly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a small figure buried underneath the shattered wood that Harry supposed had once been the stalls. The figure moved, and Harry saw terrified brown eyes staring up—but it wasn't at him. No, it was at the figure to his right. He hadn't realized that Ron had moved beside him.

The rest was history. The two of them had fought the troll, but not without the girl's aid. She told them what spells to use. Afterwards, while Harry wiped the troll's bogey's from his wand (a very long and complicated story), they had introduced themselves. Whenever there was a get-together between the two military academies, the three of them would be seen together, conversing happily.

"R-Really?" Ron's face broke out into Harry's favorite grin. He looked like a kid who had just received an unexpected treat. It was no wonder that Ron's Patronus was a Jack Russell, a loyal dog. "Not that I…particularly want to see her or anything…I mean, she's always scolding me and telling me what to do, and she's _so _annoying! I really don't want to see her!"

The smile on his face said otherwise.

"Whatever you say, Ron."

"Erm…you don't…you're not eager to see her, are you?" Ron asked, his blue eyes flickering away momentarily and his smile faltering. Harry watched his friend closely.

"If you're asking whether or not I fancy her…" he said carefully. Ron's eyes immediately locked with his green ones.

The image of the bushy chestnut haired girl formed in his mind. Hermione Granger wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but she certainly wasn't ugly. She was terribly intelligent. Harry had never met such a well-informed or educated girl aside from her—in fact, he didn't know that many girls at all. The truth was he didn't fancy her. He liked her. He _definitely_ liked her. And he was forever grateful to her. What had happened in that first night had made him realize that Ron was sticking by him, through thick and thin. It had been the catalyst in their friendship because Harry stopped pushing him away—too much, anyway.

But Hermione was more like another comrade than a real girl to him. And even if he _did _fancy her…he'd give her to Ron in a heartbeat. Harry smiled at Ron's serious expression. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no, I do not."

"Oh," Ron said, relief evident all over his face. "Not that I care. I mean, if you did, it wouldn't mean anything. It's none of my business or anything. It's just that if you liked anyone, it would be nice to know. Being your best friend and all."

"I don't particularly fancy anyone," Harry said idly, his emerald irises scanning the crowd of flowing students. "There are more important things on my mind. Though, I must say that Cho Chang is very…attractive."

"Too bad she's dating that older bloke, Cedric Diggory," Ron said sympathetically.

"Come on," Harry said, patting his friend's arm with a smile of his own. "Let's go practice so that we don't make a fool of ourselves in front of any girls."

"That would be nice," Ron muttered under his breath.

As they walked outside into an empty courtyard, Harry squinted up at the sun. He always preferred the darkness of the night to the brightness of the day. It was easier to hide himself—he had a habit of creeping about the Academy at night, when he could not sleep. Still, it wasn't as if he disliked the sun. He just felt…that something was always off. He couldn't explain it, but that was the way he had always felt.

Ron stretched his neck and then settled into a hunched stance, his blue eyes watching Harry humorlessly. "Ready?"

Harry, falling into a stance of his own, nodded curtly. They bowed to one another before they were off. Before Ron could even move, Harry was behind him, his wand tip aimed directly at his friend's neck. The Jelly-Legs jinx flew from his wand, but Ron had jabbed his arm up, forcing Harry's wand to aim upward. Not the least bit deterred, Harry was down, his hands bracing him against the ground, as his long leg swooped under Ron's, causing the redhead to tumble to the ground. Ron simply rolled away swiftly before pushing himself up onto his feet. He was thin and awkward at times, but not when he was battling.

"_Stupefy!" _Ron cried with his wand aimed at Harry.

"Attack me seriously, Ron!" Harry called out as he dodged the red light fluidly. He felt himself grin as his legs carried him swiftly around the courtyard.

The two of them didn't really need wands. They could easily perform wandless magic, but using wands was for safety. It lowered the effect and impact of the spells. The two of them used their magic, but usually they did not, for it was simply too easy to dodge one another. Especially for Harry.

Deciding to become more serious, Ron shoved his wand back into its holster before concentrating. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched a light blue glow surround Ron. Quickly, Harry's fingers wound the tight wire rope from his belt with his fingers and flung it upward, watching the sharp blade at the end of the wire catch hold of a protruding slab and the wire wrap around it. With a quick tug, he was off in the air, narrowly missing the rush of water that flew from Ron's hands.

His feet solidly placed against the stone walls, Harry idly wondered if he would be hindered tomorrow because he didn't know his power. Nearly everyone in the Academy had one. Of course each and every one of them could perform magic—that was nothing special. Only, aside from wands and potions, most people possessed another talent or skill. A psychic's power, for example, would be to predict the future. Ron had the ability to utilize water. Everyone's power was different. It usually reflected the nature of the person. To make up for his undiscovered power (for his mentors insisted that, for someone with such raw power, surely he had one), Harry had been trained extensively to use his body and tools to make do.

Pulling again at the wire, it unattached itself and flew back to his hands. But as it did so, he began to run against the walls, missing the blasts of water Ron shot his way. Suddenly, Harry leapt from the wall, right above Ron, his foot pointed toward Ron's face. Not to be outdone, Ron grabbed hold of Harry's foot and winced as Harry's boot drove him slightly back, despite his braced pose. He then shoved Harry away from him.

Harry flipped in the air before landing gracefully on the ground. Then he shot forward, two gleaming silver dangers in his hand. Ron's sword was out of its sheath in a flash, temporarily blinding Harry with its bright reflection of the sun. The clash of steel against steel was almost unbearable, but the two of them were very familiar with the sound. Harry now held his two daggers up in a crisscross position, holding off Ron's sword. Their weapons, arms, and hands shook as they pushed toward one another.

"Heh," Harry smirked, feeling the sweat form at his brow. He hoped that it would not trickle down and momentarily blind him. His mind raced. Apparation was out of the question, of course, since it was forbidden on the grounds. Besides, it always put the person at a disadvantage because of the loud popping sound it would create. Still he had to get behind Ron. Or perhaps…

"Heh," Ron answered, his mouth also twisted upward into a matching smirk. The gleam in his eyes told Harry that he was itching to try out his latest water spell.

Harry abruptly heaved his daggers forward, pushing back Ron's blade before he stepped forward, placing his right foot between Ron's legs. This prevented the redhead from keeping his balance, and Harry shoved the hilt into Ron's shoulder, causing Ron to fall. There was a loud sound as Ron's body contacted the ground, followed by a moment of silence before Ron sighed.

"Ouch."

"You okay?" Harry resisted the temptation to laugh.

"Never been better…" Ron smiled, rubbing his shoulder as he propped himself up. "You went easy on me at the end."

Harry shrugged, holding out his hand. "I can't hurt you too badly before tomorrow."

"Ha!" Ron laughed, taking Harry's hand and getting to his feet. Gingerly he rotated his shoulder. "You don't suppose you could heal it, do you? I want to make sure it's in top shape tomorrow."

Harry tapped his wand against the area and the relieved look on his best friend's face revealed that his spell had worked. Ron smiled suddenly.

"Ready for round two?"

Harry stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. His peels of laughter rang throughout the courtyard, into the bright azure sky. Ron was always like that, once he fell down he just pushed himself right back up again. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he looked at his best friend. If he were with Ron, he would be more than happy to journey into the unknown future with his head and spirits high. Harry's face filled with warmth and determination as he smiled.

"I'm ready."

* * *

Naru-chan: What do you think? This is my first adventure/action story. I've never done this before...so I hope I'm doing it okay. Also, I will remind you all, again, that I ship canon. Therefore...yes, you will see. And if you read any other story of mine, you will note my favorite couple! I intend fully to write that one in this story. You'll just have to wait to see how.

Please review...?


	2. Chapter 2: March

The Artifice of Night

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: I'm sorry about my lack of updating... If you read my profile on my account, you will see a tiny blurb there about that. Anyway, I'd like to take the time to explain the titles. They are musical terms. I'll explain the meanings behind the titles at the end of the chapters. Thanks for reading!

Also, I have no intention whatsoever of dropping my other stories! I'm just a bit stressed right now so won't be able to get much done... But I plan to finish all my stories. And canon means that the content matches the books' contents. And I can't wait until Ginny enters the scene too! Thanks once again:)

* * *

Chapter Two: March 

"You're a real idiot, you know that?"

Ron grumbled and rubbed his sore arm. "You're one to talk." Then he paused as a glazed look filled his eyes and a silly smile tugged at his mouth. "Still…it was really funny that one round where I nearly drowned you."

"Oh be quiet," Harry replied, flicking away a lock of damp raven hair. They had been practicing for the past two hours and now exhaustion weighed heavily on their shoulders as they trudged toward up a flight of stairs to their room.

It wasn't a very large room, but it was very refined. Two canopy beds pressed together in the center of one of the walls with luxurious red and gold curtains shimmered down the polished wood. It had originally been green and silver, but Harry and Ron had been fooling about one night and had accidentally changed the colors of the curtains and had found that they rather liked them this way. They asked Dobby, the house-elf that cleaned their room, not to report it or change it. Dobby had immediately burst out into tears, bawling that no human had ever _asked _him to do something before. Harry and Ron had been unsure of what to do at the time, but now they were friends with the erratic, but interesting house-elf.

There was space on the right and the left for a small desk, a chair, and a wardrobe for each of them. The wardrobe magically enlarged itself when it became crammed. It was quite handy since the wardrobe itself was rather small because of the limited amount of space.

For his part, Harry's side of the room was simple and mostly clean, especially when compared to Ron's side, which was usually a mess until the house-elves cleaned it. Ron had a terrible habit of carelessly flinging his clothes about, particularly his smelly socks. Harry once had the misfortune to have personally met Ron's sock when it smacked directly against his face.

Harry now crossed to his side of the room and opened the wardrobe. He pulled out his more casual clothes: a clean black shirt, a pair of black trousers, and a comfortable set of black robes. He quickly changed from his wet clothes and dried his hair with a quick wave of his wand.

A knock at the door caused Harry to glance over to it.

"Harry, could you get that?" Ron's muffled voice asked.

"Sure thing," he replied, heading toward the door. When he opened it, his bright green eyes widened with pleasant surprise.

Hermione Granger stood before him, her intellectual brown eyes glittering with happiness. It had been about six months since they last met, after all. They embraced, and when he pulled away, he took the time to examine the seventeen-year-old female. Her carefully curled hair, pulled back messily away from her pale and smooth face, was tied back with a white satin ribbon. She was wearing the famous Beauxbaton uniform made of rich silk cloth dyed dark, royal blue. It was a dress that clung to her curves both modestly and seductively, and over it was a matching blue cloak that skimmed down to her ankles. It allowed for her to move easily when needed, and to use her charms if caught. A fashionable silver belt traveled across her slim waist. While it looked like a simple accessory that matched her silver boots, it actually held compartments for her potions and poisons. As for her boots, no one could see the well-camouflaged dagger attached to it. In fact, it only looked like a fancy design.

For a moment, Harry and Hermione said nothing and just stared at one another. Goofy smiles formed on their faces. They loved each other, but they weren't in love with each other. They shared an interesting bond of comradeship that even Harry and Ron or Ron and Hermione never shared. Hermione, too, had been a slave, sold into the army like Harry. She, like Harry, had never recollection of her parents or her past. They understood one another's darker past.

"Who is it?" Ron's still muffled voice came as he struggled to escape from his shirt that Harry had shrunk slightly.

Harry opened his mouth, but stopped as she pressed her index finger against her mischievously smiling lips. He returned the smirk.

"I don't know, why don't you see for yourself?" he answered casually, moving away from the entrance.

"Who could it—" the redhead said, finally wrenching his shirt away from his flushed face. He froze instantly when his blue eyes landed on the brunette girl, and his jaw went slack.

Hermione cleared her throat in her no-nonsense way, but a smile still tugged on her rosy face. "Is this how you greet every girl who comes to this door?" Her eyes trailed over his bare chest. "Because I think I now know why you're still single."

"You!" he blushed deeply, but grinned at the same time. He flung his shirt to the ground and grabbed the laughing girl into a hug that she returned. Harry grinned as Hermione turned several more shades of red. Why the two hadn't become a couple yet? They never admitted their feelings, but they were plainly there.

"I'm happy to see you too," Hermione laughed, pulling slightly away to look up into Ron's clear blue eyes. "But you might really consider putting some clothes on."

"Bloody hell!" he cried out in shock, jumping a good twelve feet from her and simultaneously grabbing the bed's curtain to cover his exposed chest. His face nearly matched his hair. "I d-didn't mean to do that, Hermione, I swear. C-Could you turn around?"

"You don't have to be so shy," said Harry, closing the door breezily so that his friend would not be subject to any other unwanted audiences. "We've gone swimming before."

"Just hurry and put on something," Hermione ordered, untying her cloak and tossing it onto a nearby chair before opening Ron's wardrobe. Harry always found it interesting when she tried to cover her timidity with her bossiness.

"Hey! Don't go through there!"

"You really don't need to be so shy, Ron. We've known each other for how long now? Two and a half years?"

Ron seemed to struggle for words as he could only watch Hermione's rear move about as she dug through his messy clothes. "U-Uhn…"

"Merlin, Ron! What do you keep in here?" She straightened, holding a few crumpled magazines and newspapers in her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him accusingly. "Why do you have _Quidditch Weekly _and the _Daily Prophet_ in here? A wardrobe is meant to hold _clothes, _Ronald."

"Yeah, well," Ron blushed, snatching the papers from her hands and tossing them in the bin, "sometimes I get a bit unorganized!"

"Basically whenever Professor Karkaroff comes around for his monthly inspection, Ron crams all his trash into his wardrobe," Harry explained, seating himself comfortably onto Ron's bed. "And since it just grows and grows…so does the amount of rubbish in there."

"Harry!" Ron cried out, but Harry grinned in response.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione sighed, whipping her wand out from her belt. She began to mutter several spells and the various objects flew out of the wardrobe.

Harry watched in amusement as a Quaffle, random pieces of armor, several crumpled Auto-Answer Quills, a Pocket Sneakoscope, what was left of a deck of Exploding Snaps, innumerous amounts of Chocolate Frog wrappers, and so on fly out from within the confines of the wardrobe. With another flick of her wand, all the things seemed to arrange themselves — the Quaffle and bits of armor went under his bed, the Pocket Sneakoscope landed on Ron's desk, and most of the other junk ended up in the rubbish bin.

"Wow," Ron said, a bit amazed. "What would I do without you, Hermione?"

"Just get dressed, Ron," she said, but Harry didn't miss the faint coloring of her cheeks. Ron grinned his boyish grin before grabbing a black jumper and pulling it over his head.

"Now that the three of us are fully dressed," Harry said, rising to his feet with a cheerful smile, "do you want to go down to eat?"

The three of them traveled down the hallways, filling each other in about all that had happened over the past six months.

"It's so _annoying_," Hermione moaned, tugging at her curls. "I'm still not used to taking so many hair-straightening potions in the morning!"

Indeed, Harry thought as his green eyes trailed over the females that traversed the corridors. All of them were gorgeous. Slick and shiny hair, wide eyes with lush and curled eyelashes, slender waists, long legs… It was one of the weapons that the Beauxbatons used: their bodies.

Hermione, however, rather despised being dressed and made up like a doll. She would much rather spend the night curled up with a large textbook, memorizing its content than dressing up and giggling with other girls. Still, it was a requirement that she look good, which really wasn't hard for her to do aside from her naturally bushy hair. Because she had only entered into higher ranks in the past year, she only began taking potions to tame her hair rather recently.

"I think that your hair looked fine the way it was before," Ron said. Harry figured that Ron didn't realize that he was complimenting her. He was just being honest the way he always was.

"Really?" she beamed at him.

"Oh yeah," he said, "it is probably a lot of hassle, right? You could be training during that time!"

"Ah…yeah," she said, her brown eyes flickering to the ground.

Harry shook his head. Leave it to Ron to ruin a moment by speaking about training. Still, Ron took what he did very seriously. His dream was to be a soldier, after all.

"'Arry! Ron!" a throaty voice called from down the hallway. The three of them looked up to see a young woman walking toward them. She was a breathtaking beauty — so beautiful that the whole hallway seemed to light up. Her tall and svelte form seemed to float toward them, her long blond hair shimmering with a faint silvery sparkle flowing behind her.

"Fleur—" was all Harry managed before she swooped over him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him on both cheeks; the places where her lips had graced burned. She was part Veela, creatures that seemed beyond stunning. They used their good looks and charms to literally enchant their victims. They did tend to turn into nasty-looking birds when angry, however…

"'Ow long eet 'as been!" Fleur Delacour said as she moved over to Ron and gave him the same treatment. Hermione, who Fleur had pointedly ignored, looked like a choking cat.

"How are you?" Harry croaked.

"_Très, très bien_!" she said in her husky voice.

"How's Bill?" Ron wheezed, rubbing his cheeks absently. Fleur had been dating his older brother for the past year or so. Fleur, who graduated from Beauxbaton with flying stars, protected Gringotts, a famous goblin-run bank known for its tight security. Bill, who worked as a Curse-Breaker for the goblins, spent a lot of time with her ("for my Eenglish eemprovement").

"Oh, 'e is very busy. New assignment," Fleur said warmly. One thing was sure about Fleur. While she was haughty and self-absorbed, she was head over heels for Ron's oldest brother. "But 'e is so thoughtful! Ze still made plans for our anniversary!" She stopped, looking behind them. "Oh, I am zo zorry, I must go. Good luck tomorrow!"

With an elegant wave, she seemed to glide away.

"Honestly!" Hermione hissed. "All she ever cares about is the male sex!"

"She's not that bad of a girl," Ron said defensively.

To be honest, Ron had a bit of a crush on her when they first met, which had irritated Hermione to no end. Still, the infatuation with her passed rather quickly. He once told Harry that she was a nice girl and all, but she wasn't the one for him, so why should he waste time swooning over something that wasn't meant to be? Harry had seen the far away look in his friend's eyes, and had known that the redhead had probably been thinking about his deceased sister, who never even had the chance to meet her destined person.

"That's right, defend her," Hermione snapped nastily, widening her stride.

"Mad," Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath before hurrying after the girl.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the words escaped him when his eyes landed on a pretty Asian girl. She turned around, her raven hair sparkling after her, and her eyes locked with his before she smiled brightly.

"Hi, Harry," she said sweetly.

"H-Hi, Cho," he mustered, feeling his cheeks flush a bit. Then his eyes fell onto the tall, handsome bloke by her side. Cedric Diggory smiled at Harry.

"Long time no see, Harry," he said.

"Yeah," Harry smiled slightly before he felt himself being pulled away by his friend.

As he followed slightly behind Ron and Hermione, he watched them quietly. They were so in love, he could almost see the glow coming from them. He smiled a bit wistfully to himself and shoved his hands into his pockets, before staring out into the dark blue night behind the high windows.

He had had a slight crush on Cho Chang. She was a nice and pretty little thing. Still, it was pretty obvious that he didn't stand a chance with her when there was someone like Cedric Diggory around. Last year, Harry had been about to invite her on a date to the Yule Ball, but he had accidentally stumbled upon Cho kissing Cedric and that had been the end of that dream. However, Harry wasn't and never had been in love with her, so it was probably better this way, although he sometimes wondered if in a different time or place, they could have been together.

His eyes trailed over the full white moon. Still, he couldn't help but think that someday he would find the right person, and they would settle down and build the family he never had. Ron and Hermione would come and visit them now and again and let their redheaded children mingle with his. But if he never found this person, it would be all right. As long as Ron was happy, he was happy.

"Harry?" Ron turned and looked at him with an arched eyebrow and a smile. He gestured to his side. "Come on!"

Harry felt the grin tugging at his lips.

"Don't worry, Ron. I'm right behind you."

* * *

It was early in the morning when Harry shoved his head underneath the rushing water. It beat down on him, scorching his pale skin red, but he preferred it that way. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing away his soaked raven hair before cleansing the rest of his body. 

One might wonder why he always chose to shower so early in the morning, but he liked the peace and quiet. He always felt uncomfortable washing himself when he knew everyone was around him. They were quite a rowdy crowd, and if they ever discovered that Harry was among them…well, they wouldn't hesitate to torture him. Not that there was any part of himself that he was ashamed of.

He used to be a scrawny, starved child. The nights when his only company was the moaning and groaning of his stomach were still burned in his mind. Still, he did not have a large appetite and never took more than he needed, so now, after all his training he had a nice lean body.

Instead of mocking Harry's body, the other boys would try to hurt him in petty ways. Throwing around his soap, stealing his clothes… It irritated Harry to no end, and Ron's interference only made him feel worse. He could take care of himself! But worse than that, he didn't want Ron to suffer anything because of him. What if Ron realized that it wasn't worth being his friend? Harry didn't know what he would do. He could take anything Malfoy or the other boys threw at him, but to lose Ron…that would be too much.

Harry waved his hand and the shower shut off instantly. He made a move toward the shower curtain, but stopped, his hand an inch away from the opening. He sighed and ran his hand through his wet hair.

"Hermione, how long have you been out there?"

There was a pause, before he heard a soft sigh. "Just five minutes. I remembered that you like to take early showers."

"You know that any bloke can walk in on you, starch naked," Harry commented, shoving only his hand out of the opening and grabbing his white towel.

"No bloke aside from you would be awake at this hour, and you know it," her shrewd voice floated to him.

"Have you been using your power?" he asked lightly, wrapping the towel around his waist.

"For something like that?" She snorted. "I just need to use my common sense."

Her power was a rather interesting one. What happened was that a force invisible to all except to Hermione would appear before her and tell her almost anything she wanted such as the calculations of her opponents next attack. She would know the exact measurement of how much she would have to move to dodge it. She could make any document, even the tiniest of scraps, reappear in front of her like a floating screen as long as it had never been enchanted. In other words, it was very much like an amazing encyclopedia. However, she could not read the minds of others. Not that she needed to. She was smart enough to read his or Ron's more than half the time.

"What do you want Hermione?" Harry asked as he tore open the shower screen. The pretty brunette stared up at him from her leaning position beside the shower. He ignored her pointed gaze and picked up another towel to dry his wet body. "Ron might get the wrong impression if he saw us."

"Ron would never wake up at this time," she said defiantly though he saw a bit of unease creep into her eyes for a second. "He can sleep through nearly anything, that boy."

"Yes, well — do you mind turning around for a second?" Harry asked, pushing his foggy glasses over his eyes.

"Oh, please. It isn't as if I'm not acquainted with the male anatomy," she huffed, folding her arms over her chest. Indeed, Harry thought, Beauxbaton would have made sure of that. Still, she complied, and he turned to pull on his clothes.

"So what do you want?" he asked, his voice muffled by his shirt for a second.

"Are you…nervous?" she asked hesitantly.

"About the exam?" he paused for a moment, still putting on his clothes. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt. "A little bit, I suppose. What was yours like?"

"A few of us faced a dragon. It wasn't too bad, but one girl tried to stun it between its eyes and missed. It was so furious that it nearly burned the girl to death. Not a pretty sight…"

"Now that you're done being courteous," Harry said, turning around fully dressed, "why don't you get to the point? I know you didn't wake up this early to ask about how _I _feel about that exam." He grinned when he watched her cheeks flood a guilty red.

"I do care about you, Harry," she sniffed.

"I know," he said, ruffling her hair lightly, a smile still on his face. "You just care about Ron even more."

She sniffed once more and bowed her head so that her glossy bangs covered her eyes. She was usually a strong girl — she had learned to be one — but Ron had somehow crawled underneath that cold wall and had made her weak.

She reached up and held onto Harry's hand. "Can you watch over him for me? Please…?"

"You don't have to ask that, Hermione," he said, his green eyes growing serious. "I won't do it because you asked. I'll do it because Ron means that much to me too."

Harry sometimes thought that it was strange — strange that he and Hermione did not love each other. They shared the same past and understood each other better than most others. Their situations were remarkably similar. But there was no spark at the least between them. What really connected them, in fact, was their redheaded friend. He had a heart that could accept them, and that was all Harry or Hermione ever wanted. What mattered the most to them at the end of the day was the same thing: Ron.

"If he gets hurt, I don't know what I'd…" she choked before she could finish. The hand holding his trembled, but he held onto it firmly.

"Don't worry, Hermione. You know that I would never let anything happen to him."

"Thank you…" she whispered.

Harry closed his eyes and took the girl into his arms — a rare action. The two were usually keen to keeping to themselves. Neither knew the arms of a loving parent or sibling.

"You don't have to thank me for something I was already planning to do. Look, why don't you go back to your room? Just wish him luck before we go in."

Hermione quickly wiped her face and looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with tears that she tried hard to hold back. "He doesn't need luck."

"That's the spirit. Now go on, get out of here before someone sees you," Harry said, gently pushing her toward the door. He watched her quickly disappear before he slowly followed after.

The hallway was empty when he stepped into it, and as he walked against the marble floor, the familiar clicking of his boots could be heard loudly despite his soft steps.

A dragon, hmm? Harry highly doubted that they would face a dragon. Especially not with Draco Malfoy's power; he had the ability to control them. But Malfoy being a Malfoy, Harry realized grimly, might be the reason why certain people might rig the exam to ensure that other certain people passed with flying colors.

This premonition aside, he was not too worried about the examination. This was what all his training was for. He wanted to fight beside Ron and protect him if needed. Ron had things to live for: his family, Hermione. But Harry…all Harry had was Ron. So he would protect Ron with everything he had.

* * *

"Ooo-kay!" Lavender Brown smiled, flipping her glossy hair over her shoulder. She waved the clipboard in her hand a little, to get everyone's attention. "Hello! It's so nice to see you all!" 

Harry raised an eyebrow. Not many others were happy to see the girl as their director. In fact, most of the other boys looked positively yellow. Lavender did not, however, seemed pleased with seeing Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy that she had attended the Yule Ball with two years back. As he waved to her, she huffed and turned her head. Harry remembered, in the back of his mind, some rumors about how the girl hadn't been pleased with only receiving two letters per day…

Harry's other eyebrow rose when her eyes landed on the redhead beside him and her mouth curled into a flirtatious grin. Lavender giggled shrilly when Ron smiled a bit unsurely at her.

Lavender and Ron? No…that couldn't be right.

Apparently Hermione agreed because she suddenly elbowed her partner aside. Her lips were drawn to a straight, grim line as she spoke. "We have already set you up randomly into groups of ten." Soon she read off of her list.

Harry was both pleasantly relieved to have Ron in his group, but disgruntled to find that Draco Malfoy and his crew would be a part of it as well. The ten in his group followed Hermione down a passage toward what seemed to be a closed off room with high black glass all around.

"Are you ready, toad-eyes?" he heard Draco drawl as the blonde brushed by him. He bit back his retort, however, when Hermione spoke again. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and listened.

"Listen up, Group One," she said in her most no-nonsense voice. "For your graduation examination, you must defeat this captive, which has decided to betray the Empire. If you do not defeat him, or you abandon your companions, you will fail." Her brown eyes flickered to Ron, and seemed to gleam up worry. With that, she flicked her wand and the two iron doors behind her rattled open. "Good luck."

Harry and Ron did not move as those around him jolted and gasped collectively, though Ron flinched. Before them stood a sixteen-foot tall giant. Long, bulging arms swung by its side, ready to smash into anything that stood in its path. Its ugly face was scrunched up painfully as its narrowed eyes searched them for something — or someone. It creased even more when it realized what it wanted wasn't there.

Harry could tell by its deafening roar that it was not pleased.

"HEEE! It's r-real!" cried Crabbe, clutching onto Goyle's robes. It wasn't like the projected enemies that they had trained with all the time.

While Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy didn't make a sound, their grips on their wands tightened, and their faces lost their flush of arrogance. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked a bit paler, but determined.

"Mind that most students drop out here. Even with the best training, if you cannot fight in a real battle, it has all been in vain, so use the skills that your training has provided," Hermione continued stiffly. "Otherwise you will get killed."

"_'Arid_!" the giant bellowed horribly.

"**LET THE EXAM BEGIN**!" Hermione said, her wand pressed against her throat.

As the boys spread out, Draco threw a sharp glance at Harry, who was already in stance. "I can't lost to him," he hissed under his breath.

Suddenly Crabbe's body hurtled past Draco, slamming against the black glass with a sickening crunch. Draco, his icy blue eyes as wide as saucers slowly turned to look at his fallen friend.

"'GID!" the giant screamed, slamming its massive fists into the ground. Harry flipped in the air as Ron leapt aside. Many of the others simply screamed as they ran away.

Harry landed against the glass pane with his danger embedded deep into the glass to keep him in place, his green eyes flickering quickly about. There were not many places in which he could use his wire, since there were no protruding slabs — just unbreakable glass. The giant had now seized another boy and smashed him against a nearby windowpane.

"HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!" Seamus Finnigan screamed as he plastered himself against a wall in fear. He waved his wand futilely and watched in terror as the spells deflected from the giant's thick skin.

"_HELP ME_!" screamed another boy helplessly, slamming his fists against the windowpanes.

Blaise Zabini rushed forward, his body glowing a faint silver. Then there was suddenly an army of nine Balises following behind him. The ten of them surrounded the giant, a different weapon in each of their hands. At the same moment, they attacked, but the giant continued to scream as it spun around, its fist slamming into all of them. The clones disappeared as the real Blaise flipped in the air before sliding several feet on the rock floor. He barred his teeth in pain as he swiped away the blood that trickled down his chin.

Theodore Nott took this opportunity to step forward, ducking as another one of his classmates met his downfall. The air around him crackled as he lifted his right hand toward the giant. A small ball of black energy formed in the palm of his open hand, just as a massive black ball surrounded the giant. Theodore bit down on his lip in concentration, sweat forming at his brow as he slowly squeezed his fingers shut. The ball began to close in on the monster, who roared in outrage.

Its fists crashed against its confinement, and Theordore's fingers jolted. The giant then seemed to grab onto the wall and slowly wrench it apart. Theodore let out a cry as his left hand grabbed his right. The giant finally ripped an opening through the black force, and Theodore collapsed onto the floor, still clutching his right arm.

Harry had just decided it was his turn when his eyes landed on the blonde boy who stood frozen in his stance as the giant turned its gruesome head and spotted him. Harry moved without thinking that he would be saving the boy that had made his life a living hell for as long as he could remember.

"Look out!" Harry cried, slamming Draco out of the way, but not before seeing the terrible fear and tears in those blue eyes that were usually filled with hatred and scorn. Draco's knees gave way as he fell to the ground, trembling. Then Harry felt an excruciating grip around him as he was lifted from the ground.

"H'rid!" the giant hollered.

"Harry!" Ron screamed frantically, slamming his foot against the ground so that he leapt up thirteen feet into the air and smashed his fists as hard as he could down onto the giant's arm. Simultaneously, Harry shoved his knee up against the giant's hand, causing him to release him.

Ron's foot cracked against the giant's face, just as Harry crashed his elbow straight into the giant's large chest. In a flash Harry's wire wrapped around the giant's neck. Blood dripped down from its nose as its eyes moved wearily over his captor.

"Give up," Harry said firmly. "If you move, I will kill you."

"Grawp wan 'Arid…" the giant heaved. Harry's eyebrows knitted together. What was the giant saying? It was almost as if it didn't actually want to hurt anyone…it just wanted…

"The exam is not over, Harry," Hermione said, her clipboard in her hand, from where she stood in the corner. "The orders are that you must kill him."

"I have no reason to. He is not our enem—"

Then, in a flash, blood spurted from where the giant's head once was. Harry's eyes widened in horror as his stomach revolted. His head snapped over to his far right, and that's when he saw him, standing tall in front of a crowd of other men with his white gloved hand up in front of him.

He was handsome — even from this distance it was apparent. His silky black hair fell over his pale and perfectly structured face. His blood-red eyes gazed frostily at Harry as his lips curled in a wicked smile. Harry felt his dry throat contract painfully.

_W-Who…?_

"E-Exam complete!" Hermione managed dutifully, her spine straightening instantly at these new presences.

Then the man spoke, his smooth, heartless voice flowing over Harry, sending shivers down his back.

"You're too slow."

* * *

Naru-chan: -lets go of a deep breath- Well, there you have it. One more chapter. One more closer to the adventure our favorite hero will go through. Did you guys like meeting Hermione, Fleur, Cho, Cedric, Lavender, and Seamus all over again? I had a blast describing Hermione's new appearance. ;) And her and Ron together was really fun (though I will always love writing H/G more). Oh yes...and our favorite evil person, Tom Riddle. Did you have fun meeting him again? 

I'm sure you've noticed that there are changes in our favorite characters, such as Cedric being alive. Well, there was never any Triwizard Tournament so he never...you know. And as from Voldemort, or Tom's, appearance, there was never curse repelled back at him, so he's still handsome as he ever was. Doesn't make him a better person, of course...

Expect much more from all of them! I'll even let you in on a small preview. Next chapter you will be seeing Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas. What fun! Look forward to it!

As for the last title, a prelude is a relatively short, independent instrumental composition, free in form and resembling an improvisation. Basically, it was an introduction into this world. For this chapter, "March," a march is a musical composition set to the beat of a march. Harry is marching dutifully on his path down to becoming a soldier. Or he was... What will meeting Tom M. Riddle do to perhaps change that?

Reviews are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3: Impromptu

The Artifice of Night

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or "Someone to Watch Over Me."

Naru-chan: Hi everyone. Miss me? I'm so sorry for the long wait, so...this is your Dec. 1st gift from me.A lot of things happen, but I hope you like it!

* * *

Chapter Three: Impromptu 

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow_!"

"Oh quit your whining," Harry said, calmly tugging Ron's arm back toward him. Harry shifted slightly to unwind more of the fabric to bandage Ron's wound. It wasn't too bad; it had stopped bleeding and was slowly beginning to heal itself. Because this was considered a minor issue, the Healers had turned Ron away, much to Harry's vexation. Though Ron had insisted that it was nothing more than a scratch, Harry forced Ron to sit down after they had showered and ate dinner so that he could bandage it.

"But it hurts," Ron winced.

"What would Hermione say if she saw you now?" Harry smirked.

"I know, I know," sighed Ron, running a hand through his red hair as his pale cheeks flushed. He peered tentatively as his gash disappeared underneath the yellow cloth. The potion was palliating the pain. "I still can't believe it… Only eighteen of us passed." He let out a breathless laugh. "That exam was… I'm still shaking… How pathetic."

"You're not pathetic." It was a standard, seemingly automatic response, but Harry meant every word.

"Hmm…" Ron answered, still watching his arm. "If I can't even handle…"

"Idiot. Of course you can."

"Idiot, eh?" Ron smiled wistfully. "If it had been a real battle, it could have been a lot worse."

"We were pretty lucky though. Neither of us got hurt too badly," Harry offered. Most of their classmates — or ex-classmates now — were spending the night in the Hospital Wing. Harry wasn't sure if several of them would ever open their eyes again. Funny, even though almost all of them worked his hardest to make Harry's life a living hell, he never wished something like this on them. Justice, some would call it, but did justice really cause just as much harm as injustice?

Ron looked up from his arm to Harry. "But you know…I never thought that you would be the one to save Malfoy, that git. Even _he_loses face when compared to your bravery."

Harry suddenly wanted to look at anything other than Ron. He busied himself by fixing his glasses. "That's not true… I didn't think about it. I just moved naturally…"

"What are you talking about? I'm proud of you!"

Ron smiled that smile the only he had. It was still boyish and innocent, and more dazzling than anything else Harry had ever seen. And indeed, pride shined in his bright blue eyes. Harry swallowed hard and quickly glanced away, feeling the heat creep up into his cheeks as a grateful smile formed on his lips as well.

"Thank you, Ron…for back then. You helped me escape from the giant."

"What are best friends for?" Ron asked, deadpan, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry couldn't stand it sometimes. How could Ron be so…?

"Hey, Ron… You know that I was…a slave, don't you? And not just any slave. I was sold to fight in battle when I was very young. What is 'love of a family'…? I, who was abandoned by my own parents and with a past I can't even remember, how could I believe in such a stupid thing called 'love'? But when you say that I'm your 'best friend'…I thought that…it might just be the same," Harry said softly with a faint smile as he gazed at the red sheets underneath him. "Without you here, I might have become…something worse than Malfoy…"

A sudden darkening of the sheet made Harry quickly glance up to see Ron staring at him, his jaw open and his eyes flooded with tears.

"DAMNIT! You idiot! Look what you made me do!" cried Ron.

"Why are you crying?" Harry cried, equally appalled, his hands awkwardly gesticulating in the air.

"You say something like that, how else am I suppose to react?" Ron shouted, swiping at his eyes furiously. Then he moved away his hand to reveal his smile. "But it's the first time you've said something like that and all, so…I'm really happy."

"Ron…" Harry could barely speak. He wanted to look anywhere but his friend, but found that he couldn't.

"So," Ron cleared his throat gruffly, "let's make a best friend promise, okay?" He held out his hand. "If you ever get in trouble on the battlefield, I'll never leave you behind!"

"O-Okay," Harry managed, staring at Ron's hand.

"I swear by my sister's name that we'll die together!" Ron said firmly.

Harry looked up at Ron sharply. Had he just…? His sister was still unspoken territory. In fact, Harry didn't even know her name… But Ron was smiling softly, something enigmatic reflecting in his eyes.

"If you can…talk about your past, I can too."

"Ron…" Harry said, but he could not form any other words.

"Ginevra. Her name was Ginevra," he said quietly before taking a deep breath. "I'm sure…that she'll watch over the both of us. Even if…I don't deserve it."

Harry swallowed hard, and then smiled, knowing how hard this was for his best friend.

_Since Ron swears by your name… Ginevra…_

He clasped hands with Ron.

_I will also swear by your name._

And then he heard it. It was soft, but beautiful. He couldn't explain the strange, overwhelming feeling that flooded through him.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked Ron, his voice sounding different to his ears.

"Hear what?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"That…voice," Harry said, not sure what he was saying. But once he said the words, he knew they were true. He was listening to a voice singing. It was soft, almost deadly so.

"I think you might have hit your head, my friend, because I can't hear a thing," Ron grinned.

"Oh, sod off," Harry grinned, rubbing his ear subconsciously. He couldn't hear it anymore, whatever it had been. Perhaps he had imagined all of it.

"Come on, mate, let's go to sleep," Ron said, yawning, "before you start hearing any more voices."

Harry's pillow went sailing right into Ron's face.

* * *

Harry blinked lazily. Everything was covered by a strange white, thin fog. Still…he realized he was in a field of flowers. They were everywhere, small and delicate, and they went all the way up to his knees. Their scent was intoxicating, he thought drowsily. Where exactly was he? 

And then he heard it. It was faint, but he could definitely hear it. It was a voice, singing…a female voice. Harry had never heard anything like it before.

His legs were moving on their own accord. Was he being possessed?

_There's a somebody I'm longin' to see  
__I hope that he turns out to be  
Someone who'll watch over me…_

Harry squinted through the fog, barely making out a figure, sitting on top of a rock. Long hair flowed down slim shoulders. He wanted to move closer and…

___I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood.  
I know I could, always be good  
To one who'll watch over me._

And do what? There was an unmistakable feeling that surged within him. Harry wanted to just grab this person and never let her go, but he couldn't. His legs were now as heavy as lead, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He hadn't even been able to see her face.

_Although he may not be the guy some  
__Girls think of as handsome and lovely,  
But to my heart he carries the key._

She turned her head toward him, seeming to have realized that she had an audience. For one terrifying moment, he thought that she would stop singing, or worse, leave, but to his amazement, she rose from her seat and began walking toward him.

_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed,_

His heart rammed against his chest.

_Follow my lead, 'cause, oh, how I need…_

She was so close that he should have been able to see her face, but all he could make out from his haze was the smile that blossomed on her lovely lips. She lifted her hands, as if to touch his face. But suddenly he was falling…slipping away from her and her voice.

_Someone to watch over me._

Harry waited for the impact against the ground, but it never came. Instead he continued falling and falling, almost as if he were floating through space. As whiteness enveloped him like fog, a castle gradually came into view. His green eyes widened as he realized that this was the same place of his reoccurring dream. There they were again…a black-haired man and a redheaded woman standing in front of a miniature version of himself.

The young version of himself was wearing tattered green robes and donned no glasses. The man was wearing an intricate crimson robe with gold embroidery. The long robe skimmed down to his boots. Beneath the robe, the man was wearing a plain silk shirt with something that looked like a crest near his neck. Beside this man was a woman. Deep, scarlet hair cascaded down her slim back, gracefully falling over her own crimson robes.

_It's this dream again, _Harry realized. And suddenly, he was in the body of his younger self, gazing up at the two tall figures before him. They towered above him, but oddly no fear stirred within him. In fact, it almost felt like…comfort.

"Harry." It was the woman who spoke. Harry's eyes flickered to hers and met her emerald green gaze. There was a serene smile on her pale face. Harry wondered why it broke his heart. All she said was one word, but never had he heard anyone sound so heartbroken. "Harry…"

Then the man spoke, and Harry looked at him, surprised to see kind eyes watching him through round black glasses. There was a large, golden necklace around his neck with something round in the center…

"Someday, you will understand your fate."

_Who are you?_ Harry wanted to cry out. _What are you telling me? Why do you know my name?_

The man spoke again as he and the woman turned away. A gut-wrenching pain twanged inside Harry. "When the time is right, we will definitely…"

"Wait!" Harry heard his childish voice ring out as his legs found the ability to move. "Wa—!"

His small feet slid over something wet, and he felt the world tilt just a moment before he slammed against the ground. Pain stung all over his body, but it wasn't as bad as the recondite pain emitting from within him. He winced, but pushed himself up from the ground. Looking down, he stared, wide-eyed at the liquid that surrounded him and that covered his two little hands.

_This is…red. Red…_

* * *

_Shoot, shoot,_ thought Harry as he quickly scurried down the empty corridor the next morning. He had forgotten to hand in his report to Professor Slughorn the day before the examination. He shifted his parchment in his hands. Professor Slughorn probably wouldn't mind if Harry handed the paper in a week later, but Harry did not need any more whispers of favoritism floating about him. Not after he proved himself. He was just about to walk up into the Headmaster's room to call out the password (which was usually some exotic good that would foster plenty of money) when he heard his name coming from within the slightly opened enormous doors. 

"That Harry from Group 1…he possesses magnificent power and talent," a deep, gravelly voice spoke.

Someone was talking about him?Once the wonderment faded away, Harry felt his curiosity gnawing at him. He knew he shouldn't be listening, but his instincts were telling otherwise, and Harry, despite his strict discipline, always trusted his instinct. Hesitantly, he gazed up at the large, black doors with their famous intricate design of silver snakes before he made up his mind and peered through the crack to see a circle of men, all wearing uniformed clothing, though of better quality than the students' standard uniform.

"If he keeps this up, he'll surely become an Unspeakable, guarding the Department of Mysteries."

"But what about the lost prophecy," another voice spoke, "that was lost during the battle with our enemy country?"

"Godric's Hollow?"

The voice spoke the last two words with such pure detestation that Harry nearly jumped. Godric's Hollow? True enough, everyone hated the enemy country, but not much was actually taught about the foreign land… All Harry recalled was a war between the empire and…and what?

"The necklace is still reacting, even now," yet another new, but strangely familiar voice said calmly. "We have already checked their royalty, and the prophecy was not found. Perhaps we overlooked a blood relative. If it is the original necklace that belonged to the king of Godric's Hollow…"

The man had lifted the necklace so that it clashed and clang together. Harry let out a gasp of pain and surprise as he kneeled over, clutching his pulsing head. The sting had been sharp and sudden.

"Ah…" he hissed underneath his breath. The pain was hot and searing.

"_When the time is right…" _

_Ah…_ Harry's eyes widened slowly as the voice from his dreams rang in his head. _Oh…_

Memories flooded his mind at rapid speed. Him, small and young staring up, fields of dead bodies, a man wearing a uniform, waving his wand, green light, several soldiers holding the black-haired man before the slashing of a sword, the steel easily cutting through flesh and a golden necklace.

_That's…_

The blade that sliced through him moved so gracefully, it was almost like an art. Brutal, cold, truculence, yes, but beautiful in a horrifying way. The man slowly toppling over, his body making a sickening crunch as it lands on the ground. His head is turned, his brown eyes glassy and vacant, crimson liquid pouring from his lips and head.

_My "dad"…_

_"We will definitely come get you_,_" he said, smiling gently while lifting a small Harry._

Harry felt his throat close over, and his body begin to cover with a patina cold sweat. They had planned to come back for him… They had never wanted to abandon him. From the very beginning, they —

Another image pierced his mind. From his hiding spot, his small self could see through the small cracks and see his dad lying on the ground with one tall man towering over him, coldly wiping his sword.

_That time…the man standing next to Dad was…_

Harry's head throbbed terribly. What was happening to him? He felt numb…frozen…but was shaking terribly. He clutched his burning right hand as it pulsed. His whole body trembled as a harrowing pain, worse than anything else, flooded his senses. "Uhh…ah…ah…"

Slowly, coolly, a man inside Slughorn's room lifted a hand and the room silenced immediately. The man turned calmly to face the doors.

"It appears," the same chilling voice from the day before spoke, "that we have an eavesdropper."

"_**UWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!**_" Harry screamed wildly, bursting in from the two doors — he didn't know what he was doing, but all he heard was the unmistakable crying inside him as he charged. He was crying. His parents. They had never wanted to leave him. They had loved him after all this time of not even knowing their faces. And because of _him,_he would never know them. "_**AHHHHHHHHHHH!**_"

His glowing green right hand stretched out aiming for the handsome man's throat to kill — _kill —_

Then two knees slammed down on his body, crushing him to the ground. A sheathed sword stood in front of his trembling eyes, buried a few inches into the ground.

"Don't do that," a wicked, almost happy voice hissed. It belonged to a woman, both beautiful and deranged, a terrible sheen in her eyes. "If you lift a finger against the Dark Lord, I'll have to kill you."

Harry couldn't speak, but gasped, tears burning in his green eyes. The light was gone from his fingers, but he blindly reached for the red-eyed man all the same.

"Why are you aiming for me?" the Dark Lord asked uncaringly, an easy smile on his lips. His scarlet irises stared down at Harry, cold and calculating. "Come to think of it, he's that slave we picked up near Godric's Hollow… Keep him in prison until I come."

"Yes, my lord," the woman said with adoration, waving her wand. Thick, heavy chains clacked around Harry's wrists, but he didn't feel them. He was numb.

"If he happens to know something, make him tell you everything."

* * *

Harry's body slammed against the stone walls. The impact was harder than he expected, especially after already being beaten, but he automatically bit back the groan of pain out of habit. His hand reached up and clutched his side. He knew that it was going to bruise because it was beginning to swell already. He felt the ground for a moment before he found his glasses on the damp floor. 

"That's what you get for standing against the Dark Lord, fool," spat the guards that had flung him into the dungeon cell. Harry could hear their sneers. He had usually been hated, but never like this. Then the guards sealed shut the gate with a flick of their wands. By rote, he reached for his own wand and cursed to find that it was gone. That wretched woman had taken the liberty of snapping it herself — only after she had performed the Cruciatus Curse several times on him. The pain had been beyond what he had felt in class when they practiced curses. Well, as for his wand, he supposed it wasn't that bad since it had simply been given to him when he joined the army. Only, he wished that he had it now.

He groaned and leaned back against the wall. What was he going to do now? His head was throbbing with all these new revelations. He wanted anything to palliate the pain…but he knew logically that he didn't have time for that. He had to find a way out of here before it was too late and the Dark Lord, if that was who he really even was, came and questioned him. And by "questioned"…Harry knew very well the various techniques of how to get someone to confess, Veritaserum (or Truth Serum) being the most painless, and therefore the least utilized. Somehow, he thought grimly, this Dark Lord would not show any mercy in his ministrations.

His sharp green eyes darted around his surroundings, taking in the three guards. They were armed with only their wands and they appeared to be standard soldiers of no special talent or rank. Luckily, that vicious woman had disappeared once she had snapped his wand in two. These three goons…it would be easy enough. After all, he always carried several of his weapons with him at all times. A few slashes from his dagger and he would be home free.

But…could he really leave? What was holding him back? Durmstrang was hardly what he called a "home." Malfoy and his goons would hardly miss him. And Harry most certainly didn't want to stay here working for the man who had murdered his parents in cold blood. He let out a deep breath that he hadn't been aware that he had been holding. He realized that his hands had clenched into such tight fists that his fingernails had left bleeding marks within his palm. No…he couldn't think of this now. He had to get out of here while he still had a clear head and could still escape. There was nothing left for him here, right?

Ron.

The spinning world stilled to such a halt that its slowness and stillness felt sickeningly wrong. Harry would have to leave Ron. But what other choice did he have? If he took Ron with him — _no_! He couldn't drag Ron into this mess. Harry had already caused him so much trouble… No more. Not this time.

"How is the twerp?"

Harry's head snapped up. His green eyes widened at the sight before him. Severus Snape, donned in his usual black outfit stood outside his cell, calmly regarding the soldiers there. For a moment, his pitch black eyes flickered toward the boy, his eyes watching him above his hooked nose. There was a gleam there. Harry barred his teeth. So, the old slimy git felt victorious that Harry had found his downfall, was that it? Oh, he hated giving the evil git the pleasure of seeing him like this.

Snape's eyes returned to the soldier who was standing straighter than ever.

"He hasn't been giving you any…trouble has he?" Snape drawled.

"No, not at all sir!"

"Good." Snape's lips twisted upward in what a seemed to be a smirk and a sneer simultaneously. "I will be patrolling the halls this evening. But as for the boy, I wouldn't worry too much. This boy's a troublemaker, but he's an absolute idiot."

Snape's eyes moved to Harry once more, but this time is was longer than a flicker. He was looking at him…truly looking at him. And then his eyes moved away once again. Before Harry could even move, Snape was gone, taking his flowing clack garments with him.

Had he been trying to tell Harry something?

No, Harry thought furiously, shaking his head. Snape had always hated him and always would. He had just been gloating over Harry's demise. Harry quickly reached underneath his torn shirt and fingered the wire and dagger that lay hidden by his belt. Luckily he secretly specialized in weaponry. Normally, soldiers relied on their powers or their wands.

Harry, however, was far from normal.

Feeling as if time was ticking away faster than usual, he swiftly attached the dagger to the wire. He weighed for a moment in his hand as he speculated the invisible barrier. His dagger was different from any normal one — the set of blades he possessed had been a gift to him from Professor Slughorn. If Harry moved fast enough and caused enough friction, he could produce electricity. If used properly with the right type and amount of magical energy, they could become magically repellent. In other words, this barrier would break in a flash.

Harry took a deep breath; the soldiers were now jovially joking. It was now or never. With dexterity and accuracy, he released the wire, chanting the Vanish Spell _Evanesco_ in his mind. In a dazzling flash, the dagger ripped across the barrier, sending sparks of magical energy flying everywhere.

"AH—!" screamed the soldiers, but their cries were cut off as Harry's wire wound around one of them in a full-body bind.

Harry twisted around to see the other wizard with his wand raised and his mouth opened. A spell. Harry didn't think, he moved. Slamming his foot against the stone ground, he flew toward the guard, his elbow raised. The red light narrowly flashed by his eyes before his elbow slammed into his opponent's chest. The guard let out a strangled choke before crumpling to the ground.

Harry let out a groan as the second soldier slammed his staff into Harry's back, but he automatically flipped, slamming his foot against the soldier's head.

"Bas…tard," the last remaining soldier, wound up in Harry's wire, growled. With another twist of Harry's hand, the hilt of the dagger crashed into his head, rendering him unconscious. The soldier toppled to the ground, but not before Harry swiftly withdrew his wire.

With the three guards down, Harry finally let out a loud breath. He lifted his sleeve and wiped him mouth before glaring at the red blood that soaked into his tattered white sleeve. He had temporarily forgotten about the second soldier; forgetfulness was something he could permit from this point on if he wanted to get out of the Empire alive. He was running out of time. Soon others would come to question him — how could he get out of here in time?

"H-Harry!"

Harry jolted. That voice…it couldn't be. But it _had_to be. Harry could recognize that voice among a million others. After all, it was the voice of his one and only best friend. Slowly, he turned, and sure enough he was there; Ron, with his mouth hanging and his blue eyes as wide as saucers.

No…Harry hadn't wanted Ron to see him like this. He hadn't wanted Ron to know. But…

"Ron…" The voice coming from his throat…surely it wasn't his. Surely this strange person speaking wasn't him. It was as if it was another Harry speaking from another world. A different Harry leaving a different friend.

"You…"

Harry couldn't look at him. His green irises stared at the ground. He didn't want to see the hurt and the betrayal in Ron's eyes. It had been their promise to die together — to be soldiers together and because of Harry… He tried to smile, but it was so half-hearted that it hurt.

"I'm sorry…I can't stay here anymore. Thank you for everyth—"

Harry's body lurched forward. Mechanically, his legs began to move forward. His hand was firmly held within Ron's.

"STOP!" Harry cried out as the two of them dashed up the winding stairs before through the empty halls. "You can't get into this mess!"

"ARE — YOU — MAD?" Ron screamed, not stopping but turning his head to glare furiously at Harry. His bright blue eyes pieced Harry's; they were full of anger, fury, worry, concern, and… "I heard from Hermione! She's going to stall while we make our getaway. Merlin, you idiot! Do you _want_to die that badly? No one ever lives once they oppose the Dark Lord!"

_If…_

"There's no time to think about it now!"

_If you're really there, Ginevra…_

"Right now…!"

Harry's vision blurred.

"YOU HAVE TO THINK ABOUT RUNNING AWAY AND SURVIVING!"

_Please…_

"YOU HEAR ME HARRY?"

He could taste the bittersweet saltwater in his mouth. He bit down as hard as he could on his trembling lip. He could taste the saltwater there too. The grip on the hand holding his was almost unbearable.

_Please…_

"**IF YOU DIE FOR THEM I WILL KILL YOU!**"

_Protect Ron._

"He's escaped! The captive in the dungeons!" Voices of other guards were being alerted.

"Where's his confiscated Firebolt? IT'S GONE!"

"IT'S OVER THERE, LOOK FOR HIM!"

"Don't let him escape!"

At the end of the deserted hallway that led to the open night, two soldiers stood waiting. When they caught sight of Harry and Ron they immediately presumed their fighting stances, but just as they screamed their Stunning Spells, Ron and Harry sailed over their heads toward the waiting broom that stood against the railing. However, in one quick moment, Harry swung Ron around while unsheathing Ron's sword from its hilt in a flash. The blade halted several inches from Ron's throat.

"Don't move or I will kill this student! Stay where you are!" Harry ordered. The two soldiers, recognizing Ron's student uniform, snarled, but made no movement. They didn't know how important Ron was, but they didn't want to risk any chances.

"Harry…" Ron said softly, as if in shock.

"Ron," Harry spoke softly, but loud enough for only Ron to hear. "I can't let you throw away your dreams. You've always wanted to protect your family. If you're a criminal…you won't be able to do that. From now on I have to run away from here on my own." He bent his head, the tears freely sliding down his smiling face. "We'll always…be best friends, right?"

"Of course."

With that, Harry flung Ron at the two soldiers. The two were bowled over by the force and the surprise. Taking advantage of this chaos, Harry leapt onto his broom. Then he was soaring through the air, the wind whistling highly around his ears. He could still hear the screams and orders to go after him, but barely at this speed. He couldn't stay here and remain a danger for Ron. He had to get of here!

And that's when he saw _him_. It was only a blur, but Harry seemed to see it all in slow motion. The Dark Lord…standing tall, as coldly pulchritude as ever with his glossy raven hair falling over his scarlet irises; his arm was raised and his hand open, a lethal smile on his bloodless lips.

_**You can't escape that easily, Harry…**_

It happened so quickly that Harry didn't even have time to blink. A glow, black and sinister surrounded the Dark Lord's hand and seared through the air toward him like a snake prepared to bite. Harry squeezed his eyes closed, _Protego_on his mind when abruptly a heavenly glowing white and blue force encircled him. Harry felt the exact moment the black force smashed into the white circle, for he felt it reverberate through his entire being; it was a scorching cleaving, as if his skull — no, his whole body was being slowly ripped apart. The pure agony that ripped through him brought bitter tears to his green eyes.

"_AGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

One image flashed through the searing white throb: the Dark Lord pushed back by the repelling force. His nimble body sailed through the air before crumbling to a heap on the floor.

Harry's green eyes opened wide, blindly staring out. Why was he seeing things? Hearing things? Was he too about to lose consciousness?

_No…_Harry's trembling fingers gripped onto the broom handle. The air continued to whip around him; he was still flying, but was he still being tailed? The act of thinking with this pain was nearly impossible.

He couldn't lose control of his body…he had to keep on…he had to get out of here. He refused to be a tool for the murderer of his parents; he wouldn't fall into that man's clutches! The tears flowed freely down his wan cheeks, mixing with the sweat and blood. Grabbing the last strands of his consciousness through the haze in his mind. Harry flew on in a dreamlike daze, letting the dark night swallow him whole.

Was this what it felt like to die…?

"Neville, you're going too high! It's dangerous," sighed a black young man as he stared upward at his best friend from his comfortable seat on his broom. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Ah, it's not that bad!" the other young man laughed as he continued to fly higher and higher into the night sky. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"You really think we're going to be able to practice Quidditch with you all the way up there?" laughed the first boy as he tossed a red ball known as a Quaffle from one hand to the other. "Will this secret training be worthless?"

"Give me a moment, won't you?" smiled the other boy as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "I love the night air…"

"More than win…ning…" the voice trailed off uneasily.

"Dean?" the second boy blinked, looking down at his friend, who was now staring upward at him, aghast. No…it was more like he was looking right past him… The second boy slowly turned his head upward before his eyes widened dramatically. Before he could move, another body crashed into him, sending the two of them spiraling to the ground.

"Are you okay?" the first boy cried as he flew over to the heap and hopped off his broom.

"Ow…ow, ow, ow," groaned the second, rubbing his aching head.

"_Lumos_," the first said, waving his wand. A bright blue light emitted from its tip, lighting up the scene before him. "Ah… It looks like this fellow's been through a lot."

The second opened his eyes and took a sharp intake. The person who had assailed him from the sky was unconscious and dressed in tatters, his hands, arms, and head caked with rust colored and scarlet blood. Broken glasses hung loosely from the bridge of the person's nose. A silence fell over the two boys. He was about the same age as the other two. After taking in the terrible appearance of their new guest, the second turned to the first, his eyes narrow and serious.

"Get Ginny."

* * *

Naru-chan: What do you think? Please review! (My favorite part is the escaping with Ron personally.) Exciting, no? We see Neville and Dean for the first time, and Ginny's name! Oh, I can't wait to unravel the rest! 

Title: Impromptu - made or done without previous preparation; improvised

Obviously, none of this was planned for our poor Harry. I hope this chapter wasn't too choppy... Things will move more smoothly in the next chapter, I promise. :) The song, by the way, is called "Somebody to Watch Over Me." I'm also sorry for James's fate...and Lily's as well, but...canon is canon, even in this strange world... From now on it might stray away from it though (a warning). If you have any questions or comments, please review! I love hearing from reader (especially after not hearing from any of you for such a long time). Thank you for reading! Look forward to the rest! And yes, our favorite -- or my favorite -- heroine appears in the next chapter.


End file.
